


Innocent

by fragiledrug



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragiledrug/pseuds/fragiledrug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is innocent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Innocent

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on 750words.com and figured I might as well post it somewhere. It's more or less rambling ~~almost smut~~ thoughts on Dean/Cas, with the word "innocent" as a prompt.

Castiel is innocent.

While he has an extensive knowledge of the human world, his experiences are rather limited. Particularly those of a more carnal nature. He is a virgin. He has kissed before; Chastity, the prostitute Dean attempted to buy him, put her mouth to his, even placed his hands on her breasts before he panicked and began to ramble, thus mentioning her absent father and causing her to freak out. It cost him a chance to lose his V-card, as Dean calls it, but the smile and laugh from Dean more than made up for the ruined venture into sexuality.

He's an angel, a soldier of God. He's taken lives, saved lives, gotten drunk, used the word whore. He's not supposed to be so innocent. It makes Dean feel like he's corrupting him, dragging him down into the filth and sordid muck of humanity -- and he definitely shouldn't find that to be a turn on God help him but he does.

Castiel is on the bed then, staring at Dean with those wide, guileless blue eyes that always seem to suck him in, make him get lost. That ridiculous tan overcoat of his is crumpled on the floor, and without it he looks strangely vulnerable, strangely human. Dean can't look away. He's flushing, an exquisite red creeping up his neck, onto his face. He finally breaks eye contact and Dean has to laugh, though the sound is breathless, uncertain. Castiel never breaks eye contact first. Dean feels like the victor of some unspoken contest for all of fifteen seconds before the angel shifts on the bed, making it creak, and reality bitch-slaps Dean.

He's about to defile this beautiful creature.

Heat pools low in his abdomen at the thought, and he crawls onto the bed, kneeling over Cas. He quickly undoes the blue tie and tugs it loose enough to be able to slip it over Castiel's head. It briefly catches on his nose and Dean can't help but to laugh again, which earns him a baleful look. As he carelessly throws the tie to (hopefully) join the overcoat, he brushes their lips together in a tentative kiss. Castiel's response quickly changes it from testing to ardent the way he surges up to meet Dean. He's inexperienced but so eager, and like most things he takes on, very quick to learn. It isn't long before he's nipping at Dean's lower lip and slipping his tongue into Dean's mouth to taste him, to mark him with his own unique flavor. "Fuck, Cas." It's amazing and surreal, and when did Dean unbutton Castiel's undershirt? He pushes the white fabric off his shoulders. Castiel is pale. His skin is unmarred, a stark contrast to Dean's, which is littered with numerous scars, though nowhere near as many as he had before his trip to Hell and the consequent raising.

He still doesn't remember Cas lifting his soul out of Hell. He remembers the torture, endless pain, blood, flesh, screaming. Then, he was clawing his way out of the earth, body rebuilt like a clean slate.

It's probably better he doesn't remember.

Sometimes he wants to, though. Wants to know what Castiel saw, how he got him out, what he looks like. His true form, that is. Castiel says it's light, celestial intent, and he can imagine what he looks like, but imagination only goes so far.

Dean is not innocent, a harsh reminder he gets when Cas questioningly breathes out his name. "I'm okay," he murmurs, right against the angel's mouth. "Gonna be okay." Castiel nods, hands smoothing over his shoulders, down his upper back, one tracking back up and into the short hair at his nape. The touch is reverent, adoring. Dean shivers, kissing Castiel again, tongues warring for dominance. Dean wins this time, groaning when Cas submits and lets him in. It's always like that with the angel; he's obviously stronger than Dean, yet most of the time he allows Dean to push him around, bending to his will, letting him move him when he'd otherwise be unmovable. If he didn't want this, didn't want to be pressed underneath Dean, he wouldn't be. It's as simple as that. The fact that Castiel is still there... well, it's like a drug, hot in his veins, forbidden but wonderful and probably full of consequences he'll have to face later.

Innocence has consequences. It's always lost at some point, willingly or not. No one stays innocent forever. Not even angels. And especially not angels who get tangled up with Winchesters.


End file.
